


Sweet

by HYPERFocused



Category: due South
Genre: Breakfast in Bed, Canada, Challenge Response, Community: stop_drop_porn, Head Injury, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-04 18:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1788022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He promised Ray he would rest, while Ray cooked. "I'm making you something special for breakfast. Gonna feed it to you in bed, So don't get up yet." Ray had said, his voice full of delicious innuendo. It seemed quite unnecessary to Fraser, but he would allow Ray his little indulgences</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ultra_chrome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultra_chrome/gifts).



> A/N:Written 5/27/2007 For the 'Maple Syrup' prompt, given by [](http://ultra-chrome.livejournal.com/profile)[**ultra_chrome**](http://ultra-chrome.livejournal.com/). reposted from [](http://stop-drop-porn.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://stop-drop-porn.livejournal.com/)**stop_drop_porn**

Fraser never would have expected to have to apprehend an elderly gang of Viagra thieves at a ring of Chicago area nursing homes, nor to be nursing a headache because of it. His father -- appearing uninvited as usual -- had set him right, admonishing him for the assumption that the crime must have been committed by the younger employees and aides, or perhaps the grandchildren, rather than the residents themselves.

 

"They're old, son, not dead. Not that death would have stopped me, had I been that sort of miscreant." 'That sort of miscreant" had turned out to have a record going back to the 1920s.

 

It was a regrettably stupid incident. The perpetrator, who went by the unlikely moniker of "Cloudy-Eye Murphy", had impressive aim and power for an arthritic, cataract ridden octogenarian. It wasn't a gun or knife, or even a rock that caused the injury. Murphy lobbed a horseshoe at him, of all things, pilfered from the Lakeshore Eldercare Hotel's activity room, and Fraser hadn't moved out of the way in time. He'd been busy with Murphy's cohort, "Ace the Pace(maker)", who was attempting foul play on poor Ray, himself similarly reluctant to harm an old man.

 

"Thank God it wasn't lawn darts," Ray had said, afterwards, holding Mrs. Llewellen's donated monogrammed handkerchief to Fraser's head. Fraser thought that was an excellent point. Once everything was wrapped up at the senior center, Ray had insisted they stop at the hospital so he could get checked out.

 

'"I'm fine, Ray. This is nothing. I can stitch it up myself." He just wanted to go home.

 

"No way, Frase. I don't care if you could give yourself an appendectomy with a piece of string and a paring knife. No way are you sewing up your own head when these nice doctors have trained to do it for you."

 

Fraser couldn't argue with that. It was their livelihood, after all. Far be it from him to deny them the satisfaction of a job well done. Luckily, they used the dissolvable stitches, and he wouldn't be obligated to a return visit. "All right, then." He sat obligingly while he was sutured, forgoing the topical anesthetic offered to him.

"You're very lucky. It could have been a lot more serious," he was told, and advised to take it easy for the next day or two. "It's probably not a concussion, but have someone keep an eye on you to be on the safe side." He knew the drill.

"Won't be a problem," Ray said. "Come on. I'll take you home."

"We still need to write up the incident report," Fraser protested, but frankly not all that insistently.

 

"Already handled. I'll go in once you're settled, pick us up some food on the way back, too."

"Thank you, Ray. That sounds excellent."

Ray drove them back to Fraser's apartment, and urged Fraser into bed. "Now stay there," he said. "I'll be back before you know it." He patted Dieffenbaker, who sprawled out at the foot of it, ignoring the "only humans allowed on the bed" rule. Fraser would let it go, this time. "Make sure he doesn't get into trouble, Dief."

Dieffenbaker was as good as his word -- if a suspiciously deaf half-wolf could be said to have a word. Fraser slept until he heard Ray's key in the door, and the tell-tale sound of groceries being unloaded in the kitchen. Gingerly, he got up to see if he could help.

"Didn't I say to stay in bed?" Ray asked, as Fraser moved to kiss him. He didn't protest long, putting the bag down and turning to kiss him back. "Seems like you're feeling okay, huh?" He waved away Fraser's gestured offer of help. "I guess it's okay that you're up and about. Gotta check for alertness."

 

"I'm already on the mend, now that you're here." He'd missed Ray, having fallen asleep thinking about how lucky he was to have him and to be allowed to love him.

 

"How's your head? I bet it's hurting you." Ray reached up to stroke Fraser's hair, pulling him closer, avoiding the bandage.

"It _is_ a little sore. Perhaps you could find a way to help me keep my mind off the pain?"

"I could probably do that." Ray grinned at him. "Why don't you go back to bed and wait for me. I'll be in in a minute."

"All right. Don't be too long." Fraser kissed him again-- he could never do that enough for his liking -- and went into the bedroom. He stretched out on the bed and tried to relax. He was finally able to do so when Ray got into bed and curled up next to him.

The alarm went off at 7:00 the next morning, and Fraser cringed, reaching over to turn it off. He'd almost forgotten that they didn't have to go in to work . In fact, he wasn't even allowed to get up.

He promised Ray he would rest, while Ray cooked. "I'm making you something special for breakfast. Gonna feed it to you in bed, So don't get up yet." Ray had said, his voice full of delicious innuendo. It seemed quite unnecessary to Fraser, but he would allow Ray his little indulgences.

Fraser could hear Ray puttering around in the kitchen, but he wasn't allowed to help, or even get up to see what Ray was preparing. "Breakfast in bed means you _stay_ in bed," Ray said. "You're recuperating. Besides, you're going to need your strength."

 

This was at least marginally true. He did have that nasty gash on the head, but he was fine, a fact which Ray full well knew, but had chosen to ignore. Fraser suspected Ray relished the rare chance to play mother hen. It wasn't really necessary. Fraser had no concussion, and the wound warranted only a few stitches.

Ray returned a little while later, holding a tray. He put it down on the bedside table. Fraser could smell Ray's signature coffee, and French toast made from the leftover brioche they'd picked up a few days before. "Thought we'd have a Canadian breakfast."

"Canadian? If you say so..."

 

"Well, there are Smarties in the coffee, and Canadian bacon, and maple syrup. You know, like your flag." He grinned at Fraser, clearly proud of himself. "Plus, I'm going to serve it to you very politely."

"Well, thank you kindly, Ray." He didn't add that Aunt Jemima wasn't quite the same as real maple syrup. Someday he'd show Ray what he'd been missing.

"You're welcome. Now eat." Fraser did, enjoying it more because Ray had thought about him and making him happy, than for the taste.

"It's delicious. But aren't you going to have some?"

 

"I've got coffee. I'm fine. I'll just swipe a bite or two from your plate." Ray popped a piece of cured meat into his mouth. Fraser managed to feed him a few more tidbits, stopping every so often to kiss him. All breakfasts should be like this, he thought.

"Thank you. That was delicious."

"It's probably not what you're used to, but I'm not sure how to make Pemmican, or Beaver stew, or whatever it was you really ate."

"It's perfect. You made it for me."

 

Ray seemed pleased at that. "Yeah, well. Okay, back to bed with you while I clean up a little. When I come back I want to see you relaxed. This is a take it easy day for you."

He obeyed Ray, marginally, not getting up except to strip out of his boxers and lie back down on the bed. If he had anything to say about it, Ray would be joining him, too. They could both use the relaxation, even if Fraser didn't plan on a lot of rest.

 

"You look pretty comfortable, all things considered," Ray said, when he came back into the bedroom and found Fraser lying naked and aroused.

"I'm getting there. Come here." Fraser did his best to tempt Ray, knowing how much Ray enjoyed it when he let go of his inhibitions and stroked himself while Ray watched. His hand moved slowly over his body. Not a measured path to it's destination, more a meandering stroll, meant to entice them both.

"Screw comfortable. You look positively edible. In fact, I'll be right back." He walked away, giving Fraser the view of his lithe, lean backside. Always a good thing.

He came back in with the bottle of maple syrup. "I guess I am hungry, after all. "

"Ray! Surely you don't plan to --"

"I sure do. The sheets'll wash." He opened the woman shaped bottle and drizzled it over Fraser's body, in a similar pattern to the one Fraser had taken to touch himself. Drip drip drip on the curve of Fraser's neck and shoulder, followed by Ray's tongue as he lapped it off. A thin stream on the inside of a thigh, followed again by Ray's warm tongue. Sticky circles around his nipples, then suction bringing them to reddened points. Ray even lifted his legs to reach beneath him, a little bit dripped down over his ass, as Ray dipped in to lick there as well.

Finally, when Fraser was rock hard and panting-- and Ray still hadn't touched his erection -- he spoke. "You see, Frase, I've got a sweet tooth. And lying there like that? You look like the sweetest treat of all." With that, he drizzled more sticky sweet syrup onto Fraser's cock, and swallowed it down.

"Yep, I was right, " he said, when Fraser moaned and came. "Definitely sweet."  



End file.
